My arrival in the Underworld did not go unnoticed.From the ashen soil rose the dead their souls twisted by agony, their only desire to unleash their torment upon any who dared set foot on this cursed land.
"There are hundreds of thousands of them," said Damippus.
With Charon's lantern in hand, none would dare bar my way. Now I understood why the living could not enter the realm of the dead everything here hungered to take your life. Hordes of silent corpses, craving my flesh, began to advance with hissing and growling.
"Summon all our brothers, and we shall follow you once more," Damippus said.
I poured all my will into the call of the fallen:
"Spartan brothers! My name is Damocles. I call to you! Come to me!"
At first, I thought only a handful would answer those who still remembered my name. But then came hundreds, and then thousands. They stood behind me, a single army clad in full armor.
"We've come at your call, brother," said one of them Androcles. In several faces I recognized those who had fought by my side since childhood.
"We are ready to follow your orders," added Creon.
I hadn't known he had fallen. How many other names had I yet to hear?
"Let the glory of Sparta echo through all realms," proclaimed the former king, father of Archidamus, his voice like thunder.
No words of gratitude were needed here. Only acceptance of their aid, and respect for their honor. In my heart, I preserved the memory of every Spartan who answered my call.
"Let us show them our valor," I said.
From the heavens, the view must have been mesmerizing: Spartans stood in perfect ranks, shoulder to shoulder, facing a black, seething mass of the faceless and the endless dead.
"Charge!" I commanded.
I plunged into the ranks of the dead, and behind me surged the entire army.
We pierced through the enemy like an unstoppable spear, carving a path through chaos and shadow. Broken souls howled as they hurled themselves upon us, seeking to shatter the phalanx in vain. We stood firm, a stone in the river of death.
Though I had long renounced my Spartan heritage, in that moment, I was one of them again. I was proud to stand with them in battle. We fought as brothers and when you fight beside those willing to die for you, what enemy can break you? Even death recoils before such unity.
But my will was not limitless. Holding so many warriors near demanded more and more strength. I felt my energy draining, exhaustion creeping in.
We reached the shores of the Styx. A ship waited at the dock, but Charon was nowhere to be seen. I retrieved the coin Hermes had given me.
"Go now, Damocles," said Creon. "Remember: our faith lives within your heart."
I stepped aboard, and at that very moment, the coin crumbled to dust. My strength was spent. One by one, the Spartans began to fade. Damippus was the last to disappear.
"Remember the oath," he said before vanishing into the void.
The dead surged toward the ship, but in the next instant, they crashed against an invisible barrier. Realizing their defeat, they growled, froze, and slowly dissolved into the mist.
I approached the helm but no one was there. Where was Charon? He was supposed to guide the vessel.
The ship's design was unlike any other. Here, in the Underworld, there was no wind and so it had no sail. How did it move?
I reached out to the wheel, and at once I felt something being torn from me. My body grew heavy, my hands pale as if life itself were being drained.
With great effort, I pulled my hands away, tearing myself free from the invisible grasp. Catching my breath, I touched the helm again but this time, prepared for resistance. My hands surged with will, and I gripped the handles tight. The ship shuddered… and slowly began to drift forward.
The River Styx was silent and grim. There was no sun only endless darkness surrounding all. From its depths came a strange, viscous sound, as if someone groaned in eternal torment.
Soon, a dull thudding echoed beneath the ship, as though something was striking the hull. At first, I thought the souls had boarded. But I quickly realized these were the ones trapped in the river itself. Here, souls undergo purification, losing the last traces of their memories. Driven mad, they lash out at anything that disturbs their oblivion.
Only Charon's lantern could drive them away. But now it was hidden cowering in fear. So brave it had seemed when I was helpless.
The pounding grew faster, more violent, until a sudden, sharp blow made the ship tremble. The boards groaned… and the vessel halted. I let go of the helm and rushed to the bow.
From the darkness emerged jagged black reefs the ship had struck them. It seemed the souls adrift in the Styx had guided me straight into the rocks.
"Damocles!" came Charon's voice. "You were a fool to challenge me. This is my domain and here, I am omnipotent," he declared, standing atop his skiff, just dozens of meters from my vessel.
I hurled my spear in a flash. It blazed with light, cutting through the darkness but at the last moment, the waters surged upward like a wall, halting its strike. I stretched out my hand, and the weapon obeyed my will, returning to my grasp.
"Did you think it would be so easy to kill me?" Charon sneered, venom lacing his voice.
"I give you one chance," I said. "Who was the girl? And what part did you play in all of this?"
Charon's face twisted with rage.
"You dare question a god, mortal?!" he roared. "You will pay for your insolence! You will beg for mercy!"
The oar in his hand began to change, shifting before my eyes and in the next instant, it had become a scythe, forged from smooth, blackened bone. He swung it, and the waters of the River Styx churned like boiling oil.
From the depths rose something terrible. As though the river itself had taken form and now thirsted for vengeance.
"Aaoaoaoaoao!" A wild, unholy howl erupted.
Thousands of voices cried out in unison. From the black water surged a faceless mass of flesh, woven from agony, screaming, and the river itself.
Fighting it head-on would be pointless. No matter how many times I struck it, I could not defeat water. The only way to destroy this thing was to defeat the one who commanded it. The Styx obeyed Charon's will and his will was bound to that weapon, now a scythe. With each sweep of it, the river bent to him.
A massive watery fist crashed down upon me. I rolled aside, barely avoiding the impact. In the next breath, dead souls stretched their shadowy hands toward me from the river, trying to drag me into the current.
I leapt back, gathered my strength and threw the spear again. It ignited in flight, streaking past the river beast and striking Charon's skiff.
But I hadn't just thrown a weapon. I had cast an anchor.
A burst of light and I shot through the air, hurtling toward Charon. A towering wave rose and swallowed me whole, dragging me down. I felt my body grow heavier, life draining from my limbs. My strength faltered. Everything I was… began to slip away into the darkness.
But Charon would not rid himself of me so easily.
I remembered the lantern the one that had guided me through the realm of the dead. In that moment, light bloomed in my hand. I summoned it a perfect replica of Charon's lantern, but woven from my own power, from my faith.
The light burst forth, piercing the gloom. The souls that reached for me screamed and recoiled, as though burned. One by one, they retreated, sinking back into the Styx.
I surged upward, rising fast. Breaking through the darkness, I burst onto the surface once more. My will ignited the river, scattering the mist, driving back all the shadows.
Charon staggered, stunned.
"This is… impossible…" he whispered.